


One After 909

by SgtPepper007



Series: EXO Oneshots [16]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music Store, Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Music, Music, Music Store, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtPepper007/pseuds/SgtPepper007
Summary: It's raining, One After 909 is plunged into tranquility and Zitao finds out that the stranger exploring the aisles might brighten his shift a bit more than he thought.In other words: a record store au filled with great music, bonding over vinyl records and lots of warmth.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao
Series: EXO Oneshots [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257455
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	One After 909

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wrote something light-hearted for once. Writing this oneshot was kind of therapeutic in its own way and after months of keeping it in my drafts, wondering if I should post it or not, I finally decided it was about time to share it. Enjoy this rare ship and very light, short and sweet oneshot.

The sound of raindrops hitting mercilessly against the windows of the small store echoed over the music that was playing softly, creating an interesting contrast with the album that was playing; strangely, it added even more intensity to it. The young man behind the cash register bobbed his head in small but sharp movements, his feet perched over the counter moving along as he mouthed the lyrics of ‘Very Ape’, accompanying Cobain’s pained and revolted voice with his own. 

Zitao loved rainy days the most when he was working; he could put on any album he wanted to, breathe in the smell of old and used records in tranquility, sing as loudly as he wished and read his latest book purchase or skim through the music magazines the owner received every month. He particularly took pleasure into choosing some random vinyl records that caught his attention with either their funky and psychedelic covers or boring and flat ones, discovering the albums while he would play it in the deserted store. There were no better days than the rainy ones where he could really focus on the songs playing, not having to deal with the customers’ loud voices and chatter or the people walking outside and laughing while passing by the poorly isolated store. 

The first seconds of ‘Milk It’ followed the previous song as Zitao picked the ‘Rolling Stone’ magazine scattered on the counter with various other ones he had already read the previous days. He had purposely ignored the July 2019 issue the past month but thought that he couldn't avoid reading it any longer; he had already read all the other ones at least twice. Seeing Harry Styles in the cover, as well as what Zitao believed were lame titles for the articles featured in it, didn’t appeal to him in the slightest, but boredom was too strong and maybe laughing a little bit would add a bit of fun to his day. With his feet moving in a newfound speed that matched the rhythm of the song playing in the store, the young man skimmed through the July issue quickly, eyes coming across a few other titles that failed at catching his attention.

Just when he was about to settle into reading the article about the singer he wasn’t fond of, the sound of cars passing by echoed more loudly in the store, accompanied by the overly familiar ‘ding’ whenever a customer would open the door. Squeaking sounds penetrated Zitao’s ears as well as the shuffling of clothes. The employee lifted his eyes from the magazine and scanned the stranger that had entered the store dripping from head to toe. He silently cursed under his breath at the thought of having to wipe all the water from the customer’s drenched shoes that were already leaving puddles by the door. He would need to be more convincing the next time he would talk to his boss about the idea of buying carpets and putting them on rainy days like this one. “Welcome to ‘One After 909’,” Zitao greeted, not waiting for a response before focusing his attention on the article, head and feet still bobbing to the song playing.

When the customer didn’t even make a single sound of acknowledgement on his part, Zitao detached his gaze from the magazine and eyed the customer once again, this time with more attention. The person standing by the door was a relatively short man, probably in his late twenties. He was wearing a long pitch black coat that covered almost the whole length of his legs and that mirrored the colour of his hair, which was simply styled in a buzzcut, both drenched and dripping on the wooden floor underneath his matching black shoes. He had big doe eyes that scanned the whole store from left to right, eyes drifting towards the ceiling before observing his unknown and colourful surroundings again, gaze not staying in a single spot for longer than a second. The owner had a psychedelic, hippy phase a few months back and had decided after a sleepless night to paint the walls of the store with non matching colours on which weirdly shaped mandalas were illustrated by the owner himself, decorated with posters that were copies of concert advertisements dating from the late 60s and the 70s. Affirming the record store was 'lively' was the least to describe it; it looked like the store itself went on an acid trip. It took a whole week for Zitao to get used to it. The man didn’t have an umbrella with him and his coat was deprived of a hood in spite of clearly being one made for days like this one. Zitao wondered for a brief moment what the use was of a raincoat if there wasn’t even a hood attached to it.

While the customer started to wander around the different aisles, Zitao glanced at the uninteresting magazine in his hands, feigning to read its content as he observed the other man further and with great interest. Cobain’s screams echoed in the store under Zitao’s scrutinizing eyes as he wondered what kind of music the other man would be into. Zitao found lots of pleasure in guessing what the music taste of his customers were, and this one would be particularly fun to guess. 

The stranger seemed to be a ‘classic’ type of man, and not only in terms of classical music, although he could probably be the kind of person to enjoy Mozart’s piano sonatas and find Cage’s pieces disturbing. He could also maybe enjoy Renaissance polyphonic music or even be interested in pieces like Reich’s ‘Music for pieces of wood.’ Or maybe the man was more the type of person to enjoy whatever mainstream song played on the radio and not give a crap about it. What if he had tattoos hidden underneath his long sleeved coat? Zitao took a moment to imagine him at a death metal concert, bobbing his head energetically to the guitars blaring loudly through the speakers of a small and packed bar. The idea in itself put a smile on his lips. He could also secretly be into religious Hindu music. Zitao chuckled silently at the thought of the latter. 

The customer’s actions didn’t give anything away though. Usually, the people entering the store would quickly settle on a particular section that interested them or go straight towards the artists or genres they were looking for even before stepping into the store. However, the man in front of him observed every single section and took a few minutes to skim through the records of every genre he came across, going from punk to reggae and opera. He didn’t seem to have a specific album or artist in mind, looking aimlessly through all the records brushing under his fingertips. Maybe he was also the kind of person to simply enjoy the feeling of good old records with the touch of his palms. To this, Zitao could relate wholeheartedly.

‘In Utero’ eventually came to an end; the store now engulfed in silence, making the squeaky, watery steps of the customer against the wooden floor more audible and obvious, the man still exploring the store. It suddenly felt empty and the absence of music lifted the awkwardness between the two men. At least, it was the case for Zitao since the stranger seemed to be quite immersed into his exploration mission, to the extent of not even noticing that the music ceased. Zitao got up from his seat, stretched his back and legs while loudly groaning in satisfaction before heading towards the turntable. He removed the album from it and put it back in its cover. Zitao looked at the stranger again, an idea flashing in his mind. Maybe this could ease the tense atmosphere. “Is there an album you would like to listen to?”

The other man slightly flinched, probably at the unexpected sound of the employee’s voice. He looked around him, eyes even wider in surprise, and briefly glanced at Zitao before eyeing The Smiths’ album ‘Meat Is Murder’ under his fingertips. “What?” he asked shyly. Zitao couldn’t help but quirk his lips in enjoyment at the sight of the other man speaking up, although he was surprised at how deep his voice was, contrary to his expectations. If his music taste would be as surprising as his voice, maybe he really was a death metal fan covered in tattoos.

“I can put anything on the turntable, your pick,” Zitao exclaimed, hips resting on the counter with his arms crossed, body leaning slightly on the side. He nibbled on his spider bites ring piercings out of habit while observing the other man, intrigued. 

The customer eyed his lip piercings for a moment before peeking at his right ear entirely covered in various piercings. “I don’t… I don’t really know,” he replied quietly, as if his voice was too loud for the silent store. “I’m not even here to buy anything, I just came in to be sheltered from the rain…”

Zitao chuckled, “It doesn’t matter. Just pick whatever, then.”

“Okay…” the stranger said hesitantly. He looked around the aisles a few times before going towards the indie rock section. A couple of records came in contact with his fingers before he took one in particular in his hands, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Zitao smiled at the sight. “‘Between Days’, huh? Any particular reason?” 

Zitao walked towards the other man at the far end of the store and stood next to the customer, watching how the other man’s eyes truly looked intrigued by the record. His fingertips gently brushed the cover, as if it would crumble into powder if he would touch it with more pressure. “Not really? It might be dumb but my mind has been set on it ever since I saw it earlier. The cover is beautiful so I wonder how the music sounds.”

“It’s not dumb. An album cover says a lot about its content,” Zitao explained. “Most of the time, I pick albums based on the covers alone. It can be either a good or a deceiving surprise. But I can assure you that this album is worth the listen.” The smaller man handed the album for Zitao to take it, the latter taking it and going towards the turntable. He put the record on it, settling the headshell above the corner of the record and placing the stylus on it. The first notes of the title track ‘Between Days’ resonated in the store, plunging it into the band’s intimate universe. The two men listened quietly to the whole song, neither of them uttering a single word. Zitao sat on the counter with his eyes closed, his attention focused on the sounds. A tender smile danced on his lips, loving the sensations the song alone evoked in him.

Zitao had forgotten the other man was still there when his voice pulled him back to reality, “What is the name of the band?”

“‘Far Caspian.’”

“I’ve never heard of them before. I don’t know much about music, but their name doesn’t sound familiar to me.”

‘So he’s the kind of guy that doesn’t know anything about music in the end, huh?’ the employee thought. Zitao kept his eyes closed and took a deep breath, bathing into ‘Blue’ echoing softly in the store, enjoying how Joel Johnston's voice caressed his ears and how the instrumental tickled his insides in pure comfort. “It’s because they aren’t well known. They are the kind of band you want to keep to yourself, to treasure on your own and only share with your closest friends because they are too special for the whole world to know.”

The two men stayed silent for the next few minutes. Zitao hadn’t heard this album in so long. It was absolutely refreshing. It felt like drinking coffee on a cozy Sunday morning, covered in warm blankets while watching trees outside or walking by the beach, in complete calmness. Rare were the bands that sparked such feelings and sensations in him, and he cherished each precious moments and emotions he shared with ‘Far Caspian.’ Their unique sound had the magical ability to plunge him into the greatest peace of mind he could experience, to make him feel safe and loved. He would do anything to see them perform live. Just thinking about it gave him chills, goosebumps rising on his skin in delight.

“Do you always pick your albums based on their covers?”

Zitao slowly opened his eyelids and gazed at the other man, who was now closer to him rather than the far end of the store. He smiled and nodded, “Most of the time, I do. It happened a couple of times that I bought a record here without listening to it first.”

“Do you regret it at times?”

Zitao laughed, eyes crinkling and teeth showing just enough for the customer to peek at it, “Yep, but I just sell them back to the owner here when it happens. He scolds me sometimes because of it.” The other man chuckled at his statement, Zitao finding the sight heartwarming. The man surely had a beautiful and unusual smile, the shape of his lips reminding him of a heart. 

Nineteen minutes were too short of a length for the album and only both men’s calm breathing could be heard in the store when the last song ceased, the headshell going back to its initial place. The rain was still tapping an irregular rhythm on the windows when the two men made eye contact again, neither of them speaking a word for a moment until the stranger glanced at the clock behind Zitao, pensive for a few seconds. Zitao found the other man fun to watch, his face neutral yet still expressive in its own way. “I should head back soon.”

“Without an umbrella? You’ll get soaked again. By the way, it’s your fault I’ll spend the next few minutes wiping the whole store because you wet every single spot eyes can find.” Zitao motioned his chin towards the wooden floor, making the other man’s eyes follow the movement.

The stranger laughed warmly, “I apologise for that. I can help you clean it.”

“Don’t bother with it. I was just joking, even if part of it is true.”

Zitao only realised at that moment that the stranger’s smile was one he already grew attached to. And he didn’t really want the other man he just met to leave yet. He was interesting and a welcomed addition to his formerly uneventful day. “You have somewhere to go to?” he asked the smaller man.

“Kind of. I have an appointment with some of my parents’ friends. A lunch at a restaurant, to be more precise.” He checked the time again, on his watch instead, and it appeared that he only truly realised what time it was at that moment, eyes widening. “Shit, I’m already really late. I left earlier than planned but I didn’t think I stayed here for so long.” His eyes went back from the road outside the store to the numerous records on the aisles, eyeing Zitao shortly at the same time. He sighed and shifted his position a couple of times, deep in thought. Zitao watched him with interest. He wondered what the smaller man was thinking so hard about.

“Do you have another record of ‘Far Caspian’?” the man asked out of the blue. 

Zitao grinned, catching up on his train of thoughts. “Sure do.”

The two men spent the next hour listening to ‘The Heights’ before switching back to ‘Between Days’ again, either while talking about this and that, or listening attentively to the band the customer seemed to enjoy a lot. He eventually left the store when shy rays of sun peeked through the thick, dark grey clouds, the rain ceasing progressively in intensity. But he didn’t leave empty handed; inside a plastic bag were the two albums he had fallen in love with, without a bill accompanying it, something Zitao insisted on even though his boss would kill him for it, as well as the July 2019 issue of Rolling Stone magazine to shield him at least a tiny bit from the remaining rain, another thing the owner would kill him for. They forgot to reveal their names, but they knew where they would find each other again.

Zitao spent the rest of the day with a wide smile, wondering which excuse the man he had met would use for missing his appointment and which artist he would make the man without a name discover in their next encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> ['Between Days'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qm0ru2iBuB0), ['The Heights'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTR4D9h3zAE)
> 
> Thank me later.


End file.
